


These Streets

by gen00



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, SteveBucky - Fandom, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bottom Steve, Bottom Steve Rogers, Civil War, Crime Fighting, Death, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Touching, Other, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recreational Drug Use, Top Bucky Barnes, postaou, postserum, posttfa, posttws, preserum, pretfa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:19:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5383964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gen00/pseuds/gen00
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>best friends since childhood, bucky barnes and steven rogers were inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield. constant pendulums in each others lives. one couldn't exist without the other. </p>
<p>"in order to grow you must let go of the past" </p>
<p>but what if you can't remember your past.</p>
<p>here's the whole story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Streets

**Author's Note:**

> The MCU has lots of plot holes and missing stories, we wanted to tell the whole story our way. It MAY be historically inaccurate? non of us are History experts, especially American history but we have tried our best to keep it as accurate to MCU and real life timelines. Bear with us. 
> 
> Here's the playlist for the story, it will be updated with each chapter as each chapter is based upon a song; 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/gensctt/playlist/6kzPinRMugpnOovm29vtSV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it always snowed in brooklyn in january;)

_**January 9th 1941 2:47pm ** _

 

It was January. It always snowed in Brooklyn in January. Soft, white flakes floating down from the sky, 'little pieces of heaven' is what Sarah had called them. It'd been 4 months since she'd passed and the sting of her death was still fresh for the both of them.

He could only watch Steve watching the snowflakes fall from the sky and it broke his heart. He knew that Steve wanted nothing more than to go outside and let the drops settle on his skin, in his hair, on his slacks. But it was just too risky. The cold had always had it's way of getting to Steve, crushing his bones and freezing his lungs, it was just too fucking risky.

"Buck? Could you pass me my sketchbook and a lead?" Bucky heard Steve question from his perch on the window ledge.

Of course Bucky could. He would do anything for Steve. He padded across the wooden floor of their humble apartment to the kitchen and picked the sketchbook off the table. He walked back over to hand it to Steve, pulling a pencil out of his slacks. He always kept one or two in there just incase Steve felt like drawing.

"Thank you Buck." Steve said to Bucky.

Bucky watched Steve. He could watch Steve for hours upon hours, the subtle scratch of the pencil upon the sketchpad, the way Steve looked when he sketched. God he was so beautiful Bucky just couldn't. His blonde hair was flopped to the left, it had grown considerably over the last few months (since Sarah's death but Bucky was not going to think about that right now) and his small (Bucky thought it was equivalent to that of a kittens) tongue was just poking out of his full lips. Bucky wanted to kiss those lips so bad but _fuck_ he shouldn't be thinking that shit _shit **shit**_. He had to get out. Even if it was snowing he could just.. _fuck_ where could he go. He doubted any dames would be out in this weather and it was too cold to just sit in the park. Maybe he'd just wander around the streets of Brooklyn a bit.

"Stevie buddy, i'm goin' out t' get the papers"    _lie_

"Alright, Buck, don't forget to dress warm..." Steve said with a hint of longing in his voice. He wanted to go outside so bad. Bucky knew it and this was selfish.

Bucky left with a ruffle in Steve's hair, calling him a punk and telling him to 'get a blanket' before putting on his spare jacket and leaving.

As he walked the streets of Brooklyn, grey skies and perfect white flakes settled on his body. Blue eyes watched the snowfall onto the pavement below and his mind raced with thoughts of _Steve_. He loved him, he knew this, he'd known this since the day of Sarah's funeral   _I'm with you till the end of the line pal_   he stopped dead in his tracks and shut his eyes tight. What the actual _fuck_ would Steve think of this? In love with his _best friend_ is he _**fucking crazy**_? He'd known since Sarah's funeral, well he'd _acknowledged_ it at Sarah's funeral; he'd been in love with Steve for forever. Bucky knew that much.

The tiny white droplets started falling harder from the sky now, floating down. Bucky just stared at them. They reminded him of the tears that left Steve's eyes when he was coughing too bad from an asthma attack, or when he was just plain sick from the flu. Deadly cause but still so beautiful. Steve always looked damn beautiful.

He managed to pick his feet back up and carry on walking, unaware of where his legs were taking him. Bucky ended up outside the local thrift shop. He could see the warmest looking coat he'd ever seen in the window and he **_had_** to buy it. They were so fucking broke but he just had to.

Steve sat on the window ledge taking advantage of the light reflecting off of the snow into the window to draw. Bucky had left and Steve was so engrossed in what he was doing to notice, but soon after he subconsciously felt the air becoming stiller and began to miss the odd affectionate hair ruffle and peer over his shoulder.

'Get a blanket' damn, Bucky had been gone nearly half an hour and he only said he was going for the paper, if he didn't have a blanket on him when Bucky came back he would never hear the end of it. He placed his pad down tippy-toeing to reach for the blanket on the top shelf, the one Bucky used when he came home drunk and didn't want to wake Steve, even though Steve was always awake.

He looked around their small empty home, he didn't realise how lonely he was until Bucky wasn't by his side.

He wrapped the thin blanket around him sitting back on the window ledge. The snow looked so beautiful, he knew it was probably a death wish, but he wanted nothing more than than to feel it on his skin and in his hair. He hadn't been sick for a while    ~~just sad~~    but he couldn't risk it, not even with the two jackets he owned, it wouldn't be enough. He picked up his pencil turning over a new page, sometimes, he felt like his hand moved beyond his control, the familiar lines and curves of Bucky's face. It's just, Bucky was the only thing Steve thought worthy of drawing, Brooklyn streets could only reflect small hidden amounts of beauty, but Bucky? He had yet to find an imperfection in him. Maybe its because among the dim light and old buildings with faded colours and blood stained back alleyways, _Bucky was the only thing Steve wanted to remember about Brooklyn_.

 

_**one hour later** _

 

Once Bucky was in the apartment he dusted the snow off his boots and clothes and called out to Steve. He didn't need to call out, not really. He knew Steve would still be perched on the window ledge, maybe wrapped in a blanket, definitely looking damn beautiful and _get a fucking grip James he's your best friend don't ruin this._

"Stevie 'm home... when l walk in to that room you'd better have a damn blanket on you!" he called out from their small hallway, unravelling his scarf from his neck and retrieving the thrift shop bag from the floor.

"Got ya' a present punk" Bucky said, striding into their sitting room. Steve was still on the windowsill like Bucky had guessed and he **did** have a blanket around him (thank god). He noticed Steve slamming his sketchbook closed, he did that often when Bucky was at risk of seeing whatever he'd drawn.

Steve didn't know what he would do if Bucky saw his drawings, he wouldn't even know how to look Bucky in the eyes if he saw how many times he had drawn him.  what if he was mad?  He slammed his notebook shut quickly as Bucky walked into the room so he wouldn't have to risk it. He looked up at him, Bucky had snowflakes still melting in his hair, rosy cheeks and a large brown bag in hand.

Bucky handed Steve the brown bag with the coat in. He turned it upside down and shook, the huge coat falling out. He looked up to Bucky with the face one could only describe as that of an "excited kitten"

"Buck i can't believe you how much did this cost?!"

"Don't worry about that punk, we have enough to last us the week"

_lie_

"Now how's bout you put that coat on and we go outside?"

Steve started to pile clothes up on top of his paper-thin body (most of which were Bucky's and steve had no will to fight Bucky about it this time) before he slipped the brown jacket on. It was lined with sheep's wool and was a thick hide material, the collar had little red stars sewn into it. Before they left the house, Bucky gave Steve his hat, gloves, scarf and his extra pair of socks before tying Steve's shoelaces for him.

"Bucky I can tie my own shoelaces you know!"

"You really thing you can bend down with all'a that clothing on Stevie?"

Steve had tried. And failed.

And Bucky had bent down and began to tie Steve's shoelaces. He didn't think about how much he liked being in this area of Steve's body, no he didn't think about that at all.

Steve basically threw their feeble apartment door open so hard that Bucky thought the fucking thing would fly off. He then proceeded to run full speed (for such a tiny kid) out of it and into the heavy falling snow.

Bucky swore he'd never seen something so _fucking pure_ and _beautiful_ in his entire life. His eyes didn't leave Steve, watching this tiny soul play around in the white snow, stomping his booted feet into the slush and poking his tongue out to catch snowflakes warmed something inside him, made his heart goddamn _burst into flames_  and he swore it would just erupt out of his chest.

"Hey Buck!" Steve's voice caught his attention just before a puff of snow hit him square in the face.

"You little punk!" Bucky shouted back at Steve before scooping his hands to form a messy snowball and launching it at Steve. he missed. purposely. He couldn't risk Steve getting ill.

The rest of their time outside was spent with Steve launching perfectly little Steve-shaped snowballs into Bucky's face and Bucky throwing back large messy ones, purposely missing every time.

After what seemed like hours Steve noticed the sky was just fading into twilight and his hands were starting to turn the same purple. He'd lost feeling in them about half an hour ago but he was so happy, and he hadn't been this happy in so long, he didn't want it to end.

"Hey you two! I have some warm soup if you're done playin!"

Bucky and Steve simultaneously looked up, in the window next to their's, their neighbour Ms. Grafton was waving out. She had an subtle irish accent and it kinda reminded him of his mom. She was always looking out for Steve and Bucky, when Bucky would let her, he could tell Bucky wanted to be able to provide for them both but Steve was just thankful she helped them out now and again.

"That'd be amazin' thanks ma'am, we will be up in a minute!"

Steve ran a little to Bucky, even Bucky's lips were turning an odd colour.

"Can't turn down hot soup in this weather hm?" can't turn down hot soup _ever._

They made their way upstairs, slowly, playing for a good amount of time in the cold meant Steve was already tired out and living on the fourth floor didn't help with the fatigue. As they turned onto their corridor Ms. Grafton was already stood at the door, apron on, welcoming them in.

"Look at you both, you look frozen to the bone, what on earth made you want t'play outside in that?"

Steve looked up at Bucky.

"Buck bought me a coat, I don't get to go outside in winter much."

"Well of course he did, look at ya, its wonderful!"

She handed Steve two bowls of warm vegetable soup, he could feel the heat burning his skin but damn, it wasn't often that happened.

"You just bring me them dishes back when your done okay, and Steve, make sure you stay warm." 

Steve noticed Bucky shifting his weight and standing up straight.

"Here James, some bread for th' both of you"

"Thanks Ma'am" Bucky took the paper bag from her smiling and giving her a kiss on the cheek, well at least he wasn't being rude.

They left her door frame making their way to their own home. Steve stepped aside letting Bucky open the door, he quickly rushed in placing the bowls on the coffee table, making sure not to spill any. Bucky threw the bag down.

"why does she keep tellin ya' to keep warm? s'not like I don't all the damn time" Bucky said shrugging of his coat and shaking his head to get the snow out.

"She's just looking out for me buck, it isn't a bad thing." Steve tried to pull the sleeve of his coat off but his hands were so numb he couldn't grip it. 

"well it seems kinda like she's treatin us like her own damn kids" Steve rolled his eyes, looking at Bucky.

"Stop it Buck, she's not- I know what you're thinking, she's not trying to replace her."

"Stevie I wasn-"

"It doesn't matter, we have bigger problems." He wriggled a little trying to shake the layers he was wearing loose. He didn't want to talk about his mom, not now when he was happy. He shouldn't have said anything. He missed her, he did. But every time he tried to talk about her his chest tightened up and he ended up sobbing. 

"I can't get outta' these clothes." Humour, thats how he dealt with things and Bucky was probably only thinking about his plead for help. Bucky rolled his eyes, in one pull he managed to take off 3 out of Steve's 4 layers from his body.

Steve sat down on their old couch, picking up a bowl - the one with the least in - and warming his hands on the sides. Bucky lit the candle on their windowsill then grabbed the remaining bowl and sat next to him. He hadn't even noticed it was nearly pitch black outside, he took a sip of the soup. The hot liquid burnt his tongue and throat but it was the best food he had eaten in a while and it kind of felt nice. He looked over to his bestfriend, who was staring out the window.

"Are you ok buck?" 

"Wh- yeah, fine kid..." 

Steve looked to where Bucky's eyes were set, an American flag waved from the building block next to them. That was new.

"Stevie, d'you think..the war, in Europe...will it, will _we_ have to fight..." Bucky didn't take his eyes from the flag.

"I guess not, 's not like...I don't know Buck."

"Yeah, I guess no one does."

"I hope not, I mean that's obvious but, I am happy here, in Brooklyn, I don't want to go anywhere else."

"Why'd think you would be leavin', you ain't goin' nowhere punk. We ain't goin' nowhere..."

Bucky's chest ached, he could never be without Steve. **Never**. He loved him. He knew Steve didn't feel the same, he knew Steve would _never_  feel the same.  If the war came to America, he knew, Steve wouldn't be drafted, he was too sick and even if he wasn't sick the kid couldn't lift his own weight. He knew Steve would try, try so hard to get into the army like his father, Bucky had always known how much Steve had wanted to live up to his father's name, he was born with the courage, the heart and the determination, but he just wasn't born with the strength, build and body. But Bucky, he was young and strong, the 'perfect' soldier. He didn't want to leave Steve, he _never_ wanted to leave Steve, his heart was pounding at the thought of not seeing that perfect little human every waking moment of his city days, not being able to talk to him, see him _touch_ him. **Fuck**. Bucky could only pray that America wasn't needed.

He wasn't a big believer in the world upstairs, but if there was anything, anyone out there, Bucky was praying to them.

Hours passed and it was midnight, the sky now illuminated with frosted stars and the ground littered with piles of white snow. Brooklyn was never quiet, the alleyways were always littered with falling ash, fights and brawls, men walking their dames home. Even with the falling snow the city bustled in midnight hours. Bucky lay awake, inches from Steve. He could tell Steve was asleep from the way his chest moved steadily, rising and falling with every deep breath. His thoughts were racing, thoughts of Steve, thoughts of Sarah, thoughts of the war. He listened, listened to the city, he'd miss it, _no_ he needed to stop thinking like that, America wasn't even part of the damn war. Rolling over he set his eyes on the sleeping soul next to him, burning the image into his memories. He dreamed of snow, cigarettes and blonde hair.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find us on twitter at;
> 
> @casnvak
> 
> @babydollsteve


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